Joyce shouted up the stairs. "Rupert, shift yourself. I can't hang about waiting for you. Cummings will go mental if I'm late for the range again."

"On my way." His footsteps pounded on the treads as he descended. "You go, love. I need to do something." He kissed her on the cheek, turned and climbed the stairs.

Not wanting to be late, Joyce gave herself plenty of time. She wore a dark blue tracksuit and dumped her holdall containing her work clothes in the boot.

Relaxed, she drove to the Army Training Centre and parked at the gated entrance to the range. The radio announcer started the eight o'clock news. A tap on the driver's widow made her jump.

She flashed her warrant card to the security officer as the window wound down. "I'm waiting for Sergeant Cummings, my weapons instructor."

The middle-aged man pointed. "Park your car over there and exit the vehicle."

"She's with me, Bert."

"Morning, Arthur. I was doing my morning rounds when she arrived. Can't be too careful these days. So many nutters around."

"I've my keys for the pistol range. I'll give whoever is on duty the nod when I leave. "

"Not a problem, Arthur. If I can't trust you, who can I?"

The guard lumbered towards the main building.

Arthur opened the security gate and motioned for her to drive through. He jumped into the passenger seat. "You know where to go."

Joyce turned her head towards him. "Not even a good morning. Or at least you are on time."

"I'm more concerned about Bert. He was in the paras until he buggered his back in a jump. Now he barely survives as a contract security guard."

"I'm sure he receives a good pension."

He does, but not as much as he deserves. His missus did a runner and skinned him for every penny she could. Without this crappy job, he'd be on the streets. The terries let him use one room and the facilities. He gets by. Anyway, we will see if you've remembered anything from last time."

Joyce parked her car close to the range entrance. "You don't have much faith in me. Do you."

He shrugged. "I trust no one until they prove me wrong. I'll then trust them with my life."

Once inside the building, she followed him to the firing point. From his case, he removed a pistol. He placed it barrel, pointing along the range. He took a box of bullets from a combination safe and put them next to the gun. He pointed. "Glock Gen 4. Good weapon and used all over the world. I'll instruct you on how to check and load. After, you will fire six rounds at a stationary target. If I'm happy, we will move to the next phase of your training. Moving targets. Any questions?"

Joyce lifted the weapon. "Light and kicks. Safety on barrel clear." The magazine dropped into her hand. "Empty."

"Arthur rubbed his chin. "Who have you been talking to?"

She grinned. "My partner. Last time you had the edge. I vowed it would not happen again. May I load?"

"Six rounds."

She loaded the magazine and placed it on the shelf.

"You may load. I want you to stand with your arms outstretched when you think you are ready. Tell me."

"Don't let the barrel drop. Shoulders square. Keep your eyes scanning the area. Okay, load the mag and take the position. Your target is the tall man on your left. Six rounds only."

Even wearing ear defenders, the reverberation from six bullets bounced off the walls. Finished, she removed the mag and checked the weapon before aiming it along the range. The click of the firing pin on an empty chamber was all she needed to hear before she placed it on the shelf.

Arthur retrieved the target. "You killed the bastard. Every shot in the chest. Now do it again. In your own time, load six, aim and fire. One more thing. The targets will be moving."

She breathed deeply, positioned herself and stared at a blank wall before her.

To her right, a target appeared. Her finger relaxed on the trigger as an unarmed young woman with a pram appeared.

"To your right," screamed Arthur.

With arms outstretched, her body shifted. A man with a knife. She fired as another target materialised. A woman with a pistol. This time two shots rang out. A boy playing with a yo-yo moved from left to right. The next target was a female police officer. Her heart thumped as she aimed at the ceiling. A man with a shotgun appeared to vanish and reappeared to her left. Two shots, and it was over.

Joyce followed the procedure and cleared the weapon before putting it on the shelf. "How did I do?"

"Better than you think, but you missed one."

"I don't believe you."

"Upstairs window. Man, with a rifle."

"I never saw him."

"No one ever does. The lesson is you should never have placed yourself in the situation. If you can't win, scream for backup. You live longer."

"Point taken. I'll try to remember."

He laughed before speaking. "You'll be dead or not fit for service. Anyway, a few more lessons and you'll be as good as the rest. Don't forget you have to keep your eye in."

"Can I book a regular date?"

He shrugged. "You can, but it will not be with me. I'll have one of the other instructors give you a bell."

"Why not with you?"

"Not allowed. Those at the top call it familiarity."

"Thanks for being a bastard."

"It's what I'm good at and keeps people alive."

"See you around, Arthur." She strolled along the corridor and out of the building. Her thoughts wandered. He is a strange man but knows his job. She started the engine and returned to the station.

***

Rupert and a young constable retrieved twenty mouse traps. Each had at least one mouse. Many had a few who raced around inside the box as it moved.

"Constable, I assume you can drive. Go and borrow the dog van. Tell the Sergeant we will be away roughly an hour."

"Yes, sir."

Rupert placed the traps into plastic bags he brought from home. Finished, he waited.

Ten minutes later, the constable returned.

Rupert pointed. "Two bags for you and two for me. Whatever you do, don't drop them. Mice running around the building will make you infamous. It could end your career before you start. With the utmost care, both men made their way to the dog van in the car park. The constable lowered his bags to the ground and opened the rear doors. With the bags deposited inside the wire cage, the rear doors closed.

'The constable handed the van's keys to Rupert. He handed them back. "It's a police vehicle. I'm a civilian, so you're driving."

"But you're the senior officer, sir."

"Was, constable. I now shuffle paper."

The constable drove and parked in a roadside layby. Mature trees concealed a cornfield from the road.

Rupert opened his side window. "Perfect new home for our visitors and far enough away from the station."

Together, they removed the traps and entered the field through a gap in the foliage. Rupert let his gaze wander. He pointed. "If my memory is still working, there's a stream over there."

They opened the traps one at a time at the stream's edge. The mice, sensing freedom, raced out and dispersed in every conceivable direction.

"Good job done," said Rupert, placing the final trap back into a bag. Same again tomorrow."

"You'll need more bait, sir."

"Right in one. You can draw some money from petty cash and buy ten dairy milk bars. This afternoon. It's time we returned to the station. You to catch criminals and me to check cold cases."

"My pleasure to help, sir. It was a privilege."